


Snipe

by samwhambam



Series: Score [4]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, and marcy is an intimacy coach, but if you do read the others you might this more, clint is a foodie, david is a fashion designer, david meets the parents, everyone just gets to know each other, just like the others in the series, patrick is a professional hockey player, you don't have to read the others to get this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam
Summary: David knew it was going to happen, one day he would have to meet Patrick's parents, but it still takes him by surprise when it does, when they insist on getting to know David. What really shocks him, is how well it all goes.Snipe: A sweet shot that beats the goalie.Or hockey bfs, but the one where David meets the Brewers
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Score [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584895
Comments: 109
Kudos: 350
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	Snipe

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> hello hello hello friends
> 
> i know i said i was done, but i had to write another hockey bfs fic for sports fest lmao
> 
> if you've never read any of the score series and are wondering where to start, the order i would recommend reading the series is hat trick, slapshot, snipe, odd man rush. BUT they can be read out of order and odd man rush is the shortest out of all of them lmao

There was a tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the counter and David helped himself to one. He was on Butters-duty, because Patrick was out of town and so were his parents. He absentmindedly filled her food bowl and the ridiculous water fountain Patrick had gotten her. He hadn’t seen her yet on his visit, but he was staying in Patrick’s house for the weekend so he wasn’t worried about her absence. Yet. 

David had brought his stuff for a makeshift weekend away. He was quickly approaching the deadline to complete his sketches for his Holiday 2018 collection, just a few more to last-minute replace items that were not working. Holiday collections were tacky and he hated them but Stevie had goaded him into it and now he felt like he had something to prove. 

He grabbed his sketchbook and walked out onto Patrick’s balcony. The summer sun was starting to set and he wanted to bask in the soft pinks and purples that would soon fill the sky. He didn’t want _any_ jewel tones in his collection, but maybe the sunset could spark inspiration in finding something different. 

David lit the citronella candle Patrick kept on his outside table and began to sketch the basic shape of a trench coat. He was mid-lick of his chocolate covered finger when his phone vibrated against the table and when he turned it over, Patrick’s face was smiling up at him, his hair flattened from his helmet while his temples shone with sweat; a picture that David took when the season was still in full swing and their relationship was brand new.

“Hi,” David breathed when he answered. 

They had been dating for five months and David still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that Patrick was a “phone-call” person. It was nice, just strange.

“Hey! Are you free to facetime?” Patrick’s voice was clear through the phone and David couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. 

Instead of answering, David pulled his phone from his ear and hit the camera button. It took a second but then Patrick’s present time face was filling David’s phone screen. 

“Hi,” David said, just as breathily as the first time.

“Hi, David,” Patrick’s smile was wide and beautiful in the golden hour lighting that was shining into Patrick’s hotel room, where he was tucked away in Newfoundland with the Maple Leafs junior team.

“How are the youths?” David asked as he snuggled down into his sweater. 

“They’re having a lot of fun! No injuries yet. How’s Butters?” Patrick asked. 

“Uh, good? Haven’t seen her yet,” David looked behind himself, through the sliding glass doors behind him and into Patrick’s house. He was starting to feel slightly concerned. But it was a cat! They took care of themselves?

“Okay, can you send me a picture of her before bed? Just so I know she’s fine?” Patrick asked. His cute little brows were furrowed and David hoped he remembered. 

“Of course,” David said as he pulled a scrap paper from his pile and jotted down a reminder. 

“Are you enjoying the peace and quiet away from the city?” Patrick asked. 

David hummed as he nodded. “Okay, your house is not Muskoka, so don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“And yet you enjoy yourself whenever you’re there,” Patrick said with a smirk. 

“Oh my god,” David huffed. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t go with some nice relaxing resort instead of a house in the suburbs,” Patrick commented.

“Okay, I still have to get work done,” David raised an eyebrow. “The last time I was at Ste. Anne’s, I spent the entire time asleep on a massage table and I have deadlines to meet.”

David didn’t want to admit that it was because he missed his boyfriend. 

“I am going to miss getting my usual morning coffee,” David said with a head tilt; with the purpose to change the subject. 

“You can make coffee at home,” Patrick responded. 

“But by buying out, I’m supporting the local economy,” David reasoned. Patrick smiled and David bit his lip to keep from laughing. “It also doesn’t taste the same.”

“Go to that coffee shop a few streets over from my house,” The phone moved until David was looking at the ceiling and then bounced around. Patrick’s face finally came back into view and he was laying on his front on his bed for the week. “You can take my car.”

David couldn’t help the smile that twitched across his lips. 

“You’ll be fine,” Patrick said.

David watched as Patrick fiddled with something off-camera. 

“So, I talked to my mom today,” Patrick started. He looked back to the camera and David raised his eyebrows at him. “My parents really want to meet you.”

“Oh?” David asked as he leaned back in his chair. That was...not what David was expecting.

“They’ve been mentioning it since that first article came out about us, but I told them it was too soon,” Patrick explained. “But now…”

Patrick trailed off and David stared into this big brown eyes. 

“Five months later, I told them that I would talk to you about it,” Patrick shrugged. “You know how busy my schedule is the rest of the month.”

David hummed along. He did know and he was trying to keep how nervous he was about it to himself. 

“So it wouldn’t be until next month anyways,” Patrick reasoned. 

He bit back a smile at the _next month_ part of the sentence. Patrick had been talking like that a lot lately and the statements were finally starting to settle as warmth in David’s belly and not _oh my god what_ and _you’re gonna jinx it._

“I can probably ask my mom to make—” Patrick said with wide eyes.

David cut him off before Patrick could volunteer his mother into making a feast.

“Patrick, it’s fine. I would love to meet your parents,” David said. And it wasn’t a _complete_ lie. He was in this and he wanted to make sure that Patrick never forgot that. 

“You don’t have to lie, David,” Patrick chuckled. David watched as Patrick bit his bottom lip, tucked it into his mouth as he worried it. 

“I’m not!” David waved a hand in front of his face. “I do want to meet them.”

Patrick just stared at him and David looked up, hoping to find the words floating in the clouds above him. 

“I just—have never done _that_ before,” David furrowed his brows. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents. But I want to meet yours.”

David held back the next thought. 

_Because I care about you._ And the fear of _what if they don’t like me?_

“It’ll be fine,” Patrick said. “I probably should’ve waited until I was home to bring it up. But my mom has called me every day to ask if I’ve brought it up to you. They’re really excited.”

“That’s—” David shook his head. They were _excited_? “Sweet.”

“They’re going to love you,” Patrick smiled at him.

David smiles back at Patrick for a second. He was ready to move onto more stable ground. He shimmied his shoulders as he leaned towards the phone. “Now, how _alone_ are you right now?”

“Oh, I am _very_ alone,” Patrick’s voice was low and gravely and David shot up. 

“Let me go inside,” David turned to the sliding glass door. 

Patrick chuckled as David almost dropped his phone in the rush to open the door. 

“Start taking your clothes off!” David called out when he _finally_ got the door open. 

“Okay, David.”

*

Patrick was _finally_ back in Toronto after his week away, back in David’s arms and David couldn’t be happier. 

“Thank you for taking care of Butters,” Patrick murmured against David’s lips. 

“Shhh,” David leaned back and pressed a finger to Patrick’s lips. “Less talk about cats.”

Patrick dipped his head, past David’s finger and ran his lips over David’s neck. 

“Let’s make this kitty pur,” Patrick spoke into David’s skin. 

“Oh, god, no!” David pushed Patrick out of his immediate reach. 

“Oh, god, yes!” Patrick reached out, his fingers wiggled along David’s side and David jumped back with a screech. “Yes, David!”

Patrick chased David through Patrick’s house, up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

*

David watched as the landscape blurred past the passenger window. They were barrelling down the highway at a velocity that was _too fast._ The 45 minute drive was quickly coming to an end and David wasn’t anymore prepared to meet the Brewers. 

Patrick’s hand was warm on David’s thigh; a steady presence during most of the car ride, except for the moments when Patrick needed both hands to maneuver his BMW through traffic. 

There was a bottle of Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon at David’s feet and his hands were gripped around the bouquet of flowers he had brought for Marcy. Patrick had beamed at him when David had opened his apartment door, arms ladened with gifts. 

_“I couldn’t show up empty handed!”_

“I’m nervous,” David whispered as he wrung his fingers together. 

“Don’t be,” Patrick squeezed David’s thigh quickly before letting go to merge off the highway. “My mom is going to _love_ you.”

David scoffed at that. 

“You’re going to hand her those flowers and she’s going to be putty in your hand,” Patrick said. David nodded slowly as he focused on the houses that passed by; they were all similar to each other, only different in paint colors and yard arrangements. “You can tell her about how you love reading horrible mystery novels and she’ll probably ask if you want to join her book club.”

 _Mystery novels._ Got it. 

“Your dad?” David hated that he asked, that it bothered him that Patrick’s parents might not like him. But he was very nervous and scared of what might happen if they didn’t like him. 

“He’s a foodie,” Patrick said with a teasing smile. “I think he’s making pizza tonight—using the outside oven. Just ask one question and then smile and nod; instant conversation. Repeat that _all_ night and it’ll go great.”

“May I ask you about pizza toppings for the evening?” David turned his head to look at Patrick. “Do you know what they are?”

“Nope,” Patrick shook his head. “No idea.”

“Okay,” David settled back into his seat and watched as Patrick turned the car at a stop sign.

“You know I’m nervous too,” Patrick said.

“What?!” David’s heart picked up at that. Patrick had _just_ told him not to be nervous. “You just!”

“This is the first time I’ve brought a guy home for them to meet,” Patrick drummed a finger against his steering wheel. “It’s just another step in the journey and I’m nervous-excited to do it.”

David raised a hand to brush his fingertips over Patrick’s jaw. He didn’t know what to say. His parents had met a handful of the people that David had dated over the years, although most of those had been accidents. 

“Well, as long as we’re both freaking out,” David said, his voice a hopeful tease. 

Patrick laughed and shook his head as he pulled into a driveway. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out how this is going to go,” Patrick teased. 

“Mmm, okay,” David fixed Patrick with a stare as he chewed nervously on his bottom lip. 

“It’s going to be great,” Patrick said. 

David nodded.

“Hey, this is going to be fun,” Patrick hooked a hand around the back of David’s neck. He pulled David into a soft kiss. “If anything, this will be much less painful than hanging out with the guys.”

David wrinkled his nose at the thought. 

“This is going to have less beer, right?” David asked. 

“Way less beer,” Patrick responded with a slight pout. David shook his head with a huff of a laugh and swiped a thumb along Patrick’s lower lip. 

“Okay, let's do this.” 

Patrick kissed him again and then slapped his hand down on David’s thigh. 

“Should we do a game day chant to get us hyped up and ready?” Patrick asked with a smirk. David rolled his eyes. 

“Oh my god, you’re so ...” David shook his head as he opened his door. He grabbed the wine and flowers and left Patrick chuckling and scurrying behind him to catch up. 

Patrick’s hand had barely hit the knob when the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Brewer on the other side. 

“Hi, Mom,” Patrick stepped forward to give his mother a hug, who only entertained the action for a second before she pushed her son out of the way. “Oh. Okay. This is—“

“David! Dear, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Mrs. Brewer reached past David’s filled hands and pulled him into a hug. 

“Oh,” David looked to Patrick who was biting back a laugh. When she let go of him, David handed her the flowers. “These are for you, Mrs. Brewer, thank you so much for inviting me. Your home is lovely.”

“Please, call me Marcy,” Marcy smiled down at the bouquet in her hand, the wine in the other. “These are so beautiful, David.”

They followed her into the kitchen where Mr. Brewer was hunched over the counter and the soft _thwack thwack thwack_ of a knife on a wooden cutting board greeted them. 

“Hey Dad,” Patrick called out as he placed a hand on David’s lower back. Mr. Brewer looked up and smiled at him. 

“Give me one second,” Mr. Brewer said as he continued chopping. David watched as Mr. Brewer cut the roasted red peppers into equal-sized pieces and put them into a bowl next to roasted garlic. 

He wiped his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. 

“David, it’s great to finally meet you,” Mr. Brewer said as he held his hand out. David shook it and when he let go, Mr. Brewer pulled Patrick into a hug. 

“Mr. Brewer, thank you for inviting me,” David said. 

“Oh, call me Clint. And it’s our pleasure,” Clint said as he went back to his cutting board. He piled the scraps from his chopping onto the board. 

“We’ve never seen Patrick so happy and we knew we had to meet you.” Marcy said as her eyes flickered down to where David was holding onto Patrick with a white-knuckled grip. “It’s very sweet. Young love is always so exciting.”

“Mom,” Patrick hissed as he stuffed his free hand into his jean pockets. David raised his eyebrows at the ‘ _young love’_ comment. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the thought of it, of what Patrick might’ve told them and what Patrick hadn’t told him yet. 

“He talks about you all the time,” Marcy smiled as she leaned closer to him. Her eyes were warm and bright and _what did she know?_ Could she see the feelings that David had for her son? “Now, he talks more about you than he does hockey, so thank you for that.”

David huffed out a laugh as he turned to face his boyfriend who was blushing the most beautiful shade of red. David wrapped a hand around Patrick’s bicep and squeezed gently. Maybe they were both being seen by the matriarch.

“That is sweet,” David said as he ran his hand over the soft material of Patrick’s sleeve. “So what does he usually say?”

Patrick looked at David and rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known that bringing David here was going to create an uneven social dynamic.”

“What? I was just wondering!” David gasped as he wrapped his hand around Patrick’s wrist. 

Patrick shook his head as his lips twitched into a smile. 

“David, Patrick, can you help me with the toppings? The oven is just about ready,” Clint said. The scraping of bowls on the countertop broke David’s gaze from his boyfriend. 

“Of course,” David responded as he picked up some of the bowls and he followed the Brewer men into the backyard. There was an actual pizza oven and between freshly made pizza with surprisingly high quality toppings, the wine that Marcy brought into the backyard and poured and the warmth that the Brewers radiated, David knew it was going to be an okay night.

David’s pizza was _perfect._ He had put the right amount of sauce on it, had placed torn pieces of _real_ mozzarella in equal distances around the dough. Clint had gone all out when gathering ingredients and David had covered his pizza with pepperoni, peppers, garlic and onions, layered with shredded mozzarella and topped with torn basil. 

Patrick had slapped his pizza together precariously and David frowned at the random collection of meat that was piled high on Patrick’s pizza and in extremely uneven layers.

“Do you want a veggie on there? Maybe some spinach?” David asked as he pressed in close to Patrick’s side. “Just looks like a lot of cholesterol sitting on bread.”

“It’s full of protein,” Patrick countered. 

Marcy’s pizza was piled high with veggies and Clint was still working on his. 

“There are parts of the food pyramid other than protein,” David pointed out. 

When he looked up, Marcy was eyeing Patrick’s plate wearily. “I should probably see if we still have Tums.”

David bit back a laugh as Patrick let out a huff of air before he grabbed a handful of spinach and dumped it right onto the middle of his pizza with a pout. David appreciated a good Patrick pout. 

David reached out and rubbed Patrick’s shoulder. 

“It’s going to be very delicious,” David said as he circled a finger around Patrick’s pizza. “Maybe another veggie? But obviously it is your pizza and you should do whatever you want.”

Patrick’s lips twitched with a laugh as he shook his head.

“There’s more dough if anyone wants to make another one,” Clint said as he sprinkled oregano over his pizza. David appreciated the care with which he prepared his pizza. Marcy’s toppings were also orderly. 

David looked at Clint and Marcy’s thoughtfully arranged pies and couldn’t help but laugh when he looked at the mess his boyfriend put together.

“Wanna split a pizza?” Patrick asked as he looked up at David. 

David raised his eyebrow in return. “Are you actually going to split it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Patrick picked up his glass of wine. 

“I find that very hard to believe. Especially after the other night, when you woke up at midnight and ate half of a large pizza that I had in my fridge. Which was after you ate a scary amount of sushi at dinner,” David trailed off as his brain caught up to his mouth and he realized that he just mentioned Patrick spending the night at his apartment...in front of Patrick’s parents. Who he just met for the first time. 

Patrick blushed, his eyes down as he took a sip of wine. David felt a flush of embarrassment at the thought that he made Patrick feel weird in front of his parents. Before he could excuse himself to go find the restroom so he could sit on the floor and feel it swallow him whole, Marcy spoke. 

“I think there’s enough for two, if you’re worried, David,” When he looked over, Marcy gave him a smile as she pushed the bowl with the dough closer to him. 

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” David picked it up and handed it off to Patrick, who took it and dropped the dough onto a pizza stone. 

David watched as he began to stretch the dough. He sat back in his chair and smiled at Marcy who came to sit next to him. 

“I really am happy that you came for dinner, dear,” Marcy said. She patted his arm and David ducked his head at the action. “When Patrick said he was seeing someone, we were surprised. He’s only ever mentioned potential significant others after the relationship was over. Well, after he came out. We obviously knew about Rachel.”

“Oh,” David felt overwhelmed by Marcy’s honesty and kind words. He looked up at Patrick who was listening to something his dad was saying while gesturing to his pizza, and he was so fond of his boyfriend and his family, who were so eager to get to know him. 

“We knew you were special from the first moment he brought you up and we’re very excited to see where this goes,” Marcy placed a hand on David’s arm. 

“That’s,” David shook his head as he tried to think of words to say. Nothing he could think of seemed enough to express his gratitude of hearing such kind words about his and Patrick’s relationship. “So nice of you to say.”

“It’s true, dear,” Marcy drained the rest of her glass and reached forward for the bottle of wine. “Refill?”

David held his glass out. He watched as Patrick rounded the table and helped his dad take the food to the pizza oven. 

“Should—?” David made to get up. 

“They’ll be fine,” Marcy waved off his offer. “Patrick said you’re a fashion designer?”

“I am,” David nodded. 

He told her about his newest collection, and how his brand was still young, but garnering a lot of attention with each new season, as they watched Patrick and Clint bake the pizzas, arguing slightly about the positions of the pizza and the done-ness of the dough. 

Marcy hummed along as he spoke. She watched him intently and David found himself telling her about the galleries he used to own in New York, about how him and his family had a falling out, which was one of the things that led him to Toronto. 

“I like Toronto. More than I thought I was going to; than I did as a kid,” David shrugged. He wasn’t sure how his winding ramble had come to that conclusion, but it did.

“It’s a nice city,” Marcy agreed. 

“David, wanna help me grab some things from inside?” Patrick asked as he walked to them. 

“Sure,” He followed Patrick inside the house, into the kitchen and sighed happily as Patrick pulled him close by the belt loops and wrapped his arms around David’s waist. 

“How is it going?” Patrick asked as he pressed a kiss to David’s cheek. “I couldn’t really hear from where I was helping my dad.”

“Your mom is very nice,” David said. He dragged his fingers over Patrick’s shoulders to pinch at the seam connected to his sleeves. “You were very lucky to grow up with her.”

“Yeah, I owe her so much. I was an awful teenager,” Patrick brought his hands up to cup at David’s cheeks. “One kiss before we go back?”

Patrick pulled David down into a kiss and David relaxed under David’s touch. Through the haze of Patrick’s mouth on his, David made sure to tuck the _‘I was an awful teenager’_ comment into a box in his brain to ask Marcy about. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re knocking this whole meeting the parents thing out of the park,” Patrick murmured against David’s neck. 

“I don’t know what that means,” David shook his head. “I’m still learning hockey things.”

“It’s a baseball thing,” Patrick responded with a soft chuckle. 

“Okay, why would I know that,” David pulled Patrick closer. “But you really think so?”

“My dad complimented your pizza building strategy a _lot_ ,” Patrick slipped a hand underneath David’s sweater. “And my mom is not a good actor. If she didn’t like you, we’d know.”

“Okay,” David whispered. 

“Help me take stuff outside?” Patrick asked as he pulled away. David nodded and followed Patrick around the kitchen, hands out and ready for whatever Patrick needed him to carry. 

*

David groaned as he chewed the pizza. It was _phenomenal._ Amazing. The best pizza he’s had since his last trip to Italy. So fucking good.

“Did you put something special in the dough?” David asked as he looked across the table to Clint. “It is so good.”

“Yeah,” Clint looked down at his pizza and even David, who didn’t know Clint well at all, could see him working through something. 

“He’s secretive about his recipes,” Patrick whispered as he leaned over into David’s space. 

“Oh! You don’t have to,” David shook his head as he picked a pepperoni off of his pizza. He worried the piece of meat between his fingers as he wished he could just take the question back. 

“It’s a sea salt and garlic mixture that doesn’t work in the dough, but is amazing when you brush it on as soon as it’s done rising,” Clint said. He put down his own slice and wiped his hands on the napkin in front of him. “I tried using it in the dough and it was a disaster. Marcy, remember that?”

“Mhm,” Marcy hummed as she took a sip of her wine. 

“Here we go,” Patrick whispered as he pulled his second pizza onto his plate. 

“Then I tried brushing it on right before ingredients, but it didn’t have enough time to seep into the dough,” Clint explained. “But a thin layer before you start working with it really gets it where you want it.”

David hummed in acknowledgement as Clint took him through his journey to create the best pizza dough. He asked about the pizza oven, which sparked a conversation about the proper way to barbeque, which led to David lamenting about Kansas City barbeque.

Soon their plates were empty and cleared and Marcy was cutting a pie she had made. 

“Hope you like peach pie,” Marcy said as he handed David a plate. 

“Oh, yes,” David hummed as he accepted the plate. He was wary of pitted fruits. There was a possibility that he had a slight allergy to pitted fruits, but he wasn’t sure if the itchy throat was in response to that or just allergies in general. 

They ate as Patrick told them about his preseason training schedule and David focused on trying to not cough to scratch the itch that was settling into his throat. Yep, definitely had a thing against pitted fruits.

Soon, Patrick was ushering him out the front door. It was getting late and Patrick had an early morning practice. They left after final hugs from Clint and Marcy.

“So, what are your first impressions?” Patrick asked as he pulled out onto the road. They paused to wave at Marcy and Clint who were standing at the top of the driveway.

“I really like your parents,” David said as he turned in his seat so he faced Patrick. “Your mom was very sweet and your dad is a great cook.”

“Yeah, sorry about the 15 minute monologue about propane versus charcoal grilling. He gets very excited when given the opportunity to talk about food,” Patrick turned the car back onto a main street and David could see the highway entrance in front of them. 

“It was very informative and if I had space for a barbeque, I would definitely ask your dad for advice before I bought one,” David said as he leaned back against the car door. 

“When have you ever barbequed?” Patrick guided the car onto the highway and David straightened in his seat. 

“Oh, you would be the one barbequing,” David clarified. He could see it now, Patrick poised at the grill with tongs in hand, his Maple Leafs hat propped haphazardly on top of his head, tilted up from wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

“Okay, David,” Patrick chuckled as he shook his head. “You know that I have a barbeque, right?”

“I don’t,” David shook his head in exasperation. Patrick had a _barbecue_ and he hadn’t grilled meat for Patrick yet? “Why haven’t you used it yet?”

“I’ll grill for us this weekend,” Patrick said. He settled into his seat as he reached and squeezed at David’s thigh. 

“Good,” David nodded. 

Music played softly as they drove down the highway. David stared out the window as his mind worked over the evening.

“You know, since you met my parents, maybe it’s time I met—”

“Nope!” David interrupted him. Oh, no, that was NOT happening. 

“I think I should,” Patrick said. David caught the brief glance Patrick gave him. “You met mine. I think I should meet yours.”

“That’s not—” David cut himself off to lean back in his seat. “My parents are awful.”

“David,” Patrick signaled as he moved a lane to the right. Then another lane and they were taking an exit.

“They are. They lied to me for years, paid people to support my art gallery. I told you about each vacation they bailed on, how they invited me to dinners that they then weren’t in town for,” David took in a deep breath. “They’re not, they’re not your parents. It’s not going to be a nice time. Plus, I haven’t talked to them since I left New York.”

Patrick pulled into a shopping center and parked the car under the blue haze of the neon Dairy Queen sign. 

“David,” Patrick said as he turned in his seat to face David. 

“Hm?” David hummed as he looked down at where Patrick had grasped at his hand. 

“I’m going to meet your parents eventually,” Patrick said. “Might as well make it soon.”

David pursed his lips as he considered the thought. “The holidays. We’ll do something for the holidays. Maybe after? I don’t know what they’re doing for the holidays, actually.”

Patrick’s lips twitched and David knew he was in trouble. 

“I love when you talk about our future,” Patrick said. He reached and wrapped a hand around David’s jaw. He pulled David in and David Patrick’s hand tightly as Patrick licked into David’s mouth. 

Last month, one of his interns made a comment about Tinder and how awful it was and David was starting to believe that he was never going to have to use a dating app again. He especially believed that when Patrick kissed him like this and told him things like _‘I love when you talk about our future.’_

David whined as Patrick pulled away. 

“Just a few more kisses and then I’ll be ready to drive again,” Patrick whispered. 

They got back onto the road after _many_ more kisses.

*

“Everything’s on track, right?” David asked as he scrolled through his email. He clicked briefly on his chain with his seamstress; an update on the alterations for his models. They were set to shoot his campaign for his holiday collection and David wanted to make sure that he was completely ready for it. 

“Yes,” Stevie said. 

His phone vibrated on the desk and Stevie raised her eyebrows at him when he flipped it over to see that it was his father and sent it to voicemail. 

“If it’s important, he’ll text,” David said. “Has the photographer sent the call sheet?”

“Mhm,” Stevie tilted her head when David’s phone vibrated again. 

David opened the text from his dad. It was an invite to dinner in a few days' time. David rejected the offer, texted back that he was busy that night. 

He was. 

He had a reservation for him, Patrick, Marcy, and Clint for that same night. It was Patrick’s birthday and all Patrick had said he wanted was dinner with his favorite people. He was lost for words at that. 

“I’m assuming it was important?” Stevie asked as she closed her laptop. 

“Just a dinner invite, but it’s the same night as Patrick’s birthday dinner,” David said. He closed out of his email and leaned back in his chair. 

“You know that you could invite your parents to Patrick’s birthday dinner, right?” Stevie crossed her legs as she got comfortable. 

“I could not do that to Patrick on his birthday. Could you imagine?” David grimaced. “Happy 31st birthday, Patrick. Enjoy meeting my narcissistic family. My mother won’t remember you once she’s sober and my dad will have nothing to talk to you about since you don’t golf and he doesn’t understand baseball even though he says he does, and he’s never watched a hockey game in his adult life.”

“Okay, but you’ve said that Patrick wants to meet them,” Stevie pointed out. 

“He _thinks_ he wants to meet them,” David shook his head as he arranged his words in his mind. “He doesn’t know them. Or how bad they can be.” He took a deep breath as he steeled himself to say his next thought. “What if he meets them and then decides that it’s all too much? I love—”

David cut himself off before he could say anything incriminating. 

“You wanna finish that thought?” Stevie asked. 

“No,” David whispered as he shook his head. 

“He’s going to have to meet them eventually,” Stevie reached forward and rested a hand on his forearm. “Patrick’s crazy about you. It’ll be fine.”

“We’ll see.”

*

Dinner was a delight and afterwards, David knew he made the correct call in not inviting his parents to dinner. The Brewers were wonderful, the night was perfect and they did not deserve what disaster the Roses would’ve brought to the meal.

Two days later and David was nudged awake as Patrick wrapped himself around him from behind. 

“David, wake up,” Patrick whispered. 

“No,” David grunted as he pulled the covers over his head. 

The covers moved and then Patrick was under them with him. 

“I have to leave soon. It’s game day,” Patrick whispered as he pulled at David’s arm until David rolled around to face him. 

“Mkay, score lots of goals tonight, honey,” David patted Patrick's arm as he closed his eyes again. 

“Wake up and talk to me,” Patrick whispered as he wormed his way into David’s arms. 

“Too early,” David murmured as he wrapped his arms tighter around Patrick. “Just a few more minutes?”

Patrick hugged him back just as tightly. 

He woke up again to Patrick leaving the bed. He watched with bleary eyes as Patrick puttered around in the bathroom. David sat up in the bed and moved to the edge of it when he heard Patrick spit into the sink.

David nodded in acknowledgement as Patrick walked over to the bed. 

“You’re going to do great tonight,” David murmured as he wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist and buried his face into Patrick’s belly. “Score so many goals. Please don't get in any fights.”

Patrick dropped a kiss to the top of David’s head and stepped out of David’s arms to start getting ready. 

“What time is your game?” David asked as he watched Patrick gather his things. 

“Seven,” Patrick said as he pulled his pants on. 

“Okay, my dinner got cancelled, so I’ll be able to attend. Can you get me tickets?” David asked as he grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest.

“I can get you tickets,” Patrick murmured as he came back up to David. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” David said as he blinked owlishly at his boyfriend. “I want to see you beat the Flames again.”

“David,” Patrick’s voice was soft and his eyes were wide. He wrapped his hands around David’s jaw, tilted his face up and then kissed David slowly. 

David sighed into the kiss as Patrick’s hands moved down the sides of his neck. 

“God, I love you,” Patrick breathed as he broke the kiss. 

David felt his eyes go wide as he looked up at Patrick. Patrick bit his lip as he settled his hands over David’s shoulders. 

“You do?” David asked with a gasp.

“I do. I love you, David,” Patrick took a deep breath. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you’ve only said it twice.”

“Once to my parents,” David started. “And once—”

“At a Mariah Carey concert, I know,” Patrick continued. “I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to say it—”

“I love you,” David breathed out the words in a rush.

It was easier to say than he thought it was going to be. It was true and it felt _so_ good to say, to be in a space where he could say it. 

“David,” Patrick pulled David into a kiss and David relaxed into it. 

That night, when Patrick threw him a puck, David didn’t even try to bite back his smile. Patrick loved him and he loved Patrick and that was all that mattered. When they got back to David’s that night, David tucked the puck into his nightstand to stow away once Patrick wasn’t there to catch him in the act. 

*

“Are you going to throw a Halloween party?” Stevie asked. 

David uncorked a fresh bottle of wine as she unpacked their bag of take out from Seoul Food. He didn’t trust a restaurant with a pun for a name, but Stevie had assured him that it was very good. 

“I’m actually going to be out of town for Halloween, but I’m planning something for the company for the weekend before,” David shimmied his shoulders as he poured. “Patrick has Halloween weekend off, and will be in Vancouver that Friday night, so I’m going to fly out to watch his game and then we’re going to spend the weekend there.”

“Sounds exciting,” Stevie deadpanned. “Can’t wait to hear about your weekend in bed.”

“I will be out the following Monday, resting my body after all the physical activity,” David took his plate that Stevie handed to him. 

They settled on continuing their _Naked and Afraid_ binge and David’s finger was hovering over the play button when his phone rang. 

He turned to stare at Stevie as he pulled it out of his pocket. Stevie was here. Patrick was currently playing a game. 

_Marcy Brewer_ flashed on his screen and he answered with a tentative “Hello?”

“David, dear, it’s Marcy,” Marcy’s voice was clear and David tucked a smile away at Marcy introducing herself. 

“Hi, Marcy,” David shrugged when Stevie raised her eyebrows at him. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Marcy trailed off. 

“Oh, not at all,” David said. Stevie took a loud, obnoxious bite and David got up off the couch and walked into his bedroom. “Just sitting down for dinner.”

“I’ll keep this quick then, I just wanted to invite you to lunch on Saturday,” Marcy paused. “Clint is out of town this weekend on an ice fishing trip with his brother, so I thought it would be nice to invite you over to watch Patrick’s game.”

“Oh,” David was surprised and shakily sat down on the bed.

“His game is at 1 pm, and Clint already offered to prepare some stuff for us before he leaves,” Marcy continued. “I know I’m catching you late in the week, so I understand if you already have plans.”

David could hear Patrick’s rambling in his mother’s voice. 

“Um, I’m free on Saturday,” David said. He dug his fingers into the duvet. “I would love to come over and watch the game with you.”

“Oh, David, it’s going to be delightful.”

He could hear puttering around on Marcy’s end.

“I’ll send our address so you have it,” Marcy said. “Don’t bring anything, I have it all under control.”

“Okay,” David said, knowing he was still going to bring something. Maybe a sample of one of his finalized scarves. There was a light blue one that reminded him of Patrick; it would look great on Marcy. 

“I look forward to seeing you, David,” Marcy said. 

“Me too,” David grimaced at his lack of eloquence. 

“Goodbye.”

“Ciao!” David exclaimed. He hung up quickly and in horror. “What the fuck? Ciao?”

He stared at his phone for a moment before he shook his head and walked back into the living room. 

“So?” Stevie asked. 

“Marcy invited me over on Saturday,” David said as he sat down next to her. 

“When Patrick’s out of town?” Stevie mirrored David’s earlier confusion. 

“Yep. Clint’s out of town too, so it’s going to be just the two of us,” David explained. He took a deep breath as he picked up his plate. “Is that weird? That she invited me over without Patrick?”

Stevie tilted her head as she chewed on her food contemplatively. 

“I don’t think you or I have an answer to that,” Stevie said. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Stevie nodded, resolute and confident. “I think it’s sweet that she wants to get to know you and you obviously made a good impression on her if she’s willing to spend time with you without Patrick being there as a buffer.”

David narrowed his eyes at her. 

“I don’t think that came out how you intended?” David’s voice raised in pitch as he asked. 

“No, that came out exactly like I wanted it to,” Stevie said. She began to eat again and David wasn’t quite ready to stop with the sincere part of the night.

“So when do I get to meet Twyla?” David asked. “You’re always glowing when you come in the morning after a date with her.”

Stevie rolled her eyes but David could see the smile threatening to break out over her face. 

“The halloween party,” Stevie said and that was enough of an answer for him. 

He pressed play and then finally dug into his food. 

Four episodes later and they were both asleep on David’s couch. Stevie had claimed the chaise end of the sectional and David was sprawled out adjacent to her. David woke up with a start by his phone ringing. 

Patrick’s name and face was on his screen and David moved to turn down the tv before he accepted the call. 

“Hello?” David pushed himself up off the couch and made his way through his dark apartment into his bedroom. 

“Hi David, you sound beautiful this evening,” Patrick murmured into David’s ear. “Nice and croaky.”

David hummed as he crawled onto his bed. He pulled the blanket that he kept folded at the end of the bed over him. 

“Did you win?” David asked. He toed off his house Uggs and kicked them off the bed. 

“We did,” Patrick said. “3-0.”

“Good job, honey,” David struggled to stay awake as Patrick told him about the highlights of the game. 

“Hey, David?” Patrick broke through the haze of David’s sleepy mind. 

“Yeah?” David responded. 

“My mom told me about Saturday. Thanks for saying yes. She’s really excited,” Patrick’s voice was so soft and dreamy and there was no way David was getting up after this. 

“Of course,” David answered. His words were slow and languid. “I like your mom.”

“That’s really nice to hear,” Patrick said. “Hey babe?”

“Hm?” David hummed in question. 

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Patrick murmured. 

“Okay,” David turned his head until the phone was trapped between his ear and the bed and he could tuck his arm into the blanket. “I’m happy you won.”

Patrick’s chuckle was low in David’s ear. 

“Me too.”

The silence between them settled and David was on the brink of unconsciousness. 

Patrick’s _‘I love you’_ floated through the haze of David’s mind and he held onto himself long enough to respond with his own _‘I love you.’_

He was asleep before the click of the call being disconnected. 

*

David turned Patrick’s car into the driveway of the Brewer home. He needed to get his own car, but he wanted to wait until Patrick had enough free time to go shopping with him. Not having his own car had never been an issue. Between Lyft and Murphy, the Rose family’s driver kept on retainer, David was always covered. 

But now his dad was in town often for business, and Murphy was busy and he didn’t want to spend 45 minutes in a car with a complete stranger. Patrick offered David his car and David had gladly accepted the offer with the promise of a _very_ generous thank you. 

He was early, because he wanted to make a good impression and he wanted to make sure he was there in time for the _puck drop._ He was 87% sure that was what it was called. 

Marcy was at the front door before he could knock and she ushered him in. She was wearing a Maple Leafs shirt and David felt self conscious in his Balenciaga. Patrick had never judged him when he didn’t wear a special _sports_ outfit to one of his games, but this was Patrick’s _mother._

He wanted to impress her. 

“How was the drive, dear?” Marcy asked as she pulled him down into a hug. 

“It was fine. Uneventful,” David said. He handed her the box he had wrapped the scarf in. “This is for you.”

“Oh, David,” Marcy sighed as she opened the package. She ran a finger over the soft blue and took it out, shook it before she wrapped it around her neck and looked at him with wide eyes, the mirror image of her son. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” David looked around the foyer. Unsure how to transition from this moment into the next. 

“Come to the kitchen, I have a few more items to take into the den.”

David followed Marcy into the kitchen as she pulled off the scarf and folded it, the box tucked under her arm. 

“I wasn’t sure what you would want,” Marcy placed the box on the counter as she moved to pick up two serving dishes of food. “Patrick told me you weren’t a picky eater so I made a few different things.”

“That’s really nice of you,” David went to grab the dishes from her, but she moved them from his reach and gestured to a basket of condiments, plates, napkins and utensils. 

He followed her into the den, and gasped at all the food laid out on the coffee table. It was almost enough to distract him from the _sports_ decoration that cluttered the room. When David put down the basket, he walked to one of the walls adjacent to the tv, where he stared up at a framed poster of Patrick, fully clad in his uniform, skating across the ice. 

There was a soft click and then voices filled the room, cut off as Marcy flipped through the channels. He looked back when it settled on two sportscasters. 

Marcy looked over at him and smiled when she saw the poster behind him. 

“Patrick gave that to us. I heard they were selling them, but that was the same season when Clint was in his car accident, so we couldn’t get down to the arena. Patrick got one, signed it and framed it for us as a joke, but we love it,” Marcy explained. David could see the love etched into her face and it clenched at his heart. 

“You must be very proud,” David said. “Patrick is—” He broke off to look at the poster, at what he could see of his boyfriend's face, distorted by the plastic of the hideous helmet. 

There were many ways to finish that sentence. 

David couldn’t choose one, instead he just bit his lip as he looked around the room, at the other hints of Patrick-memorabilia. There were brief flashings of other sports things, but it was obvious that Patrick was the main focus. 

“We are, and he is,” Marcy placed a gentle hand on David’s arm. “Come get some food.”

Marcy had gone all out. The main event was chili, which David had heard Patrick rave about many times, and was probably what he was most excited for. There was an artichoke, jalapeno and spinach dip with perfectly sliced baguettes. David picked up a grape from the fruit platter and eyed the pitcher of lemonade. Patrick had also made a comment about his mom’s homemade lemonade and how it had turned their last family reunion into a drunken hangout.

“I didn’t spike the lemonade,” Marcy said. “But I will be using it to make a cocktail for myself and will gladly make one for you too.”

“That would be lovely thank you,” David replied. 

They were settled in recliners, eating the _amazing_ chili, when the game started. Marcy turned up the volume as the players skated onto the ice. They all lined up and —

“This is the puck drop?” David asked. 

David had reached the point in his relationship where he figured he should at least _try_ to understand hockey. It was a slow process, but he was getting somewhere. 

“It’s the opening face-off,” Marcy replied. 

He watched someone _drop_ the _puck_ onto the ice and then the players were zipping around. David couldn’t find the puck. 

“If there’s a special event going on, sometimes they’ll have someone come out and do a puck drop to close out the pre-game events. It’s purely ceremonial,” Marcy explained. 

“They’re playing Pittsburg,” David said as he scooped chili onto a piece of cornbread. “Patrick didn’t seem very hopeful about the game before he left.”

“Yeah,” Marcy responded. 

David took a sip of his boozy lemonade and hummed in appreciation. He held the glass up as he balanced his plate on the arm of the recliner. “This is very good.”

“If you need to, you can stay in the guest bedroom,” Marcy said as she drank from her own glass. 

David raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Only if you need to,” Marcy repeated. 

They watched in relative silence as they ate and David finished his first drink. He felt warm and happy and quickly accepted a second drink. It wasn’t until the second sip that he realized why Marcy offered the guest bedroom and he was contemplating accepting the offer. 

Which was weird. 

David scooped a bit of the artichoke dip onto his empty plate and tried hard not to think about how he was at his boyfriend’s parents house, without him, and was probably going to spend the night at said house, without said boyfriend. 

There was a whistle from the tv and David turned to watch as the players moved to one of the circles painted on the ice. 

“What happened?” David asked. He had missed … something, and now it looked like the players were resetting. 

“The puck went out of play,” Marcy explained. 

The camera zoomed in on the referee who was hunched over and about to drop the puck, except he stood back and one of the players skated away and was replaced by another player. 

“Why did they switch?” David asked. 

“The player moved out of starting position before the puck was dropped,” Marcy explained. 

David filed that away in his brain. 

He was really trying, and had grasped most of _hockey_ , but he still struggled with some of the finer details. He knew that you could check players, but you couldn’t elbow players. 

A penalty would get you sent to hockey jail and—

“Okay, now Pittsburg is in power play, since Patrick’s teammate—wait!” David gasped as he watched Patrick skate into hockey jail. “I missed it because I was eating, what did he do?”

“Tripped a player,” Marcy tutted. 

“Patrick!” David gasped at the tv. Patrick _rarely_ got put in time-out.

David picked up his phone and tapped out a text to his boyfriend to read after the game. 

_Hope you enjoyed the box of shame_

Followed by a string of flirtatious emojis. 

There was a buzzer and the Penguins, David knew the name of more teams than he would like to admit, scored a goal. Patrick was allowed back into the game after a long two minutes and then the period was over. 

“Are the Leafs going to lose?” David asked as he pulled at the lever of his recliner and the seat fell back. 

“Probably,” Marcy huffed as she leaned forward to grab the remote off the table in front of them. “Want to watch TLC during intermission?”

“Oh sure,” David said as he picked up his drink and settled back into the soft leather. There was a thin blanket draped over the arm, so David shifted until he could pull it out from under himself. “May I?” 

Marcy looked over after she changed the channel. “Oh, yes! Make yourself at home.”

“What is this?” David asked as the title card for a show came on after a commercial. 

“90 Day Fiance!” Marcy said as she settled into her chair. 

“I don’t know what that is,” David said before he focused on drinking around an ice cube that bobbed against his lips. 

“It’s about couples, one person is American, the other is abroad, and they apply for a K1 Visa so the significant other can come to America. They have to get married in 90 days for the partner to stay and get their green card,” Marcy explained. 

“Oh,” David gasped. “Interesting.”

They sat in silence as David watched in awe. 

“I don’t think these people should be getting married,” David commented as the screaming fit on the tv hit its climax. 

“Oh, probably not, but they’re going to do it anyway.”

The second period started and Marcy flipped the tv back. 

The Penguins scored another goal five minutes in and Marcy got up to make another drink.

“Want one?” Marcy held up her fresh drink and David looked down at his almost-empty glass. 

One more and there was no way he was driving home anytime soon. One more and he’d be here with Marcy and likely to say something very embarrassing. 

“Only if you’re sure that you don’t mind me staying the night?” David asked.

“I don’t mind,” Marcy smiled at him. “Stay as long as you need to.”

“Sure,” David started to get up, but Marcy waved him off and took his glass. 

David watched as Marcy made the drink, watched her eyeball the liquor and fill the glass to the brim with the lemonade. 

When she sat back down, they clinked their glasses and watched the rest of the period. When it was over, she flipped it to TLC, and then back to the game. 

The third period was getting close to the end and David was fabulously _tipsy._ That level of tipsy where he was actually kind of drunk, but he wanted to save face in front of his boyfriend’s mother, so he was definitely only tipsy. 

“Marcy, I just realized that you never told me what you do,” David said with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh,” Marcy turned to him. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes just a bit glassy; Patrick had gotten his drunken demeanor from his mother. “I’m a sex and intimacy therapist.”

“Really?” David asked with a gasp. 

“Did Patrick never tell you?” Marcy asked. She looked concerned and David felt guilty for all the conversations he had steered away from parents because of the shame he still felt around his parents and his gallery. 

“No, I—” David cleared his throat as he put his drink down on the table next to his chair. “I don’t really have a good relationship with my parents, so I always steered the conversation away from parents.”

“Oh, honey,” Marcy reached over and placed her hand on David’s arm. 

“I mentioned how I used to run a gallery in New York?” David asked. The boozy lemonade loosened his tongue in a way that he was probably going to regret tomorrow. Marcy nodded. “My parents and I had a big falling out because it turns out, they bought my success without me knowing. I found out and was _very_ embarrassed. I left New York in a fit of shame and haven’t really talked to them since. Well, nothing more than a quick, five minute phone call.”

“Oh, David,” Marcy sighed, her fingers tightened on his arm, and when he looked up, Marcy was smiling softly at him. 

It almost felt good to say it outloud. There was a buzzer on the tv and David glanced over in time for the replay of the Leafs finally scoring a goal. They were still losing. 

“I always steered the topic of conversation away from parents. But everything he did say about you and Clint was very positive,” David shook his head. “Patrick’s really lucky to have you as his parents.”

Marcy smiled as she rubbed David’s forearm. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid of talking to Patrick about your family. That boy hasn’t been the same since he met you. He loves you so much. I know he won’t care about any of that stuff,” Marcy said. She let go of his arm to lean back in her chair, glass cuddled close to her chest. “Besides, when you have walls that keep you from communicating, that actually causes a hindrance when you try to connect emotionally and intimately. If you open all channels of communication, your sex life will flourish in ways you never thought possible.”

David wondered if Patrick told his mom about how he was having trouble bottoming. Most likely not. 

“This is an awful game,” Marcy said after it had been quiet for almost too long after her comment about connecting and sex. 

“Yeah, Patrick’s going to be in such a bad mood after,” David sighed. Patrick after a game where he won? Amazing, horny, appreciative of everything beautiful in the world. Patrick after a game lost? Sad and a complete pout.

“Do you usually talk after his away games?” Marcy asked. 

“Yeah, he always facetimes me after he gets back to his hotel,” David gushed. 

Marcy’s response came in a wide smile.

“That’s really sweet,” She said as she folded her napkin. Her eyes were wide and warm as she watched David try to fight a smile. “You both seem very happy together.”

“We—at least, I am,” David took a deep breath as he considered his words. “I know how great he is. I got really lucky.”

“You both did, sweetheart,” Marcy’s hand was back on David’s arm and the feeling of maternal energy coursing from her was overwhelming. He had been starved of it for 34 years and this simple action drove another stake into his heart. 

“I never thought I would fall in love with a sports player,” David mused as he turned back to the tv, blinking back the tears that prickled at the back of his eyes. “Never thought I would fall in love in general. But especially not a hockey player.”

“We all fall from grace,” Marcy shook her head with a soft smirk and again, David saw Patrick in Marcy’s face. He missed his boyfriend. And he was very, very sleepy.

The rest of the game went by quickly, and in the end, the Leafs did lose. David helped Marcy take the food back into the kitchen, where they put everything away slowly.

“I say, we go back into the den and watch the rest of the 90 day fiance marathon,” Marcy said as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. David hummed in agreement as Marcy poured them tall glasses of water. She eyed the pitcher before handing David his glass and taking the pitcher into the den with them. 

The TV was still on and David settled right back into his seat as the sports person stopped a fully hockey clad Patrick Brewer on his way to the locker room. He watched as Patrick flipped up his visor and accepted the interview. David pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the tv, snapped a few until he had the perfect frame of Patrick laughing and uploaded it onto his insta stories with little animated hearts in the corner. 

The picture was because he was very proud of the Leafs valiant effort and Patrick looked _very_ dashing in his hockey clothes and the hearts because he was still sufficiently drunk. 

Marcy changed the channel after Patrick’s interview. 

“Oh, did you want to watch the rest of the interviews?” Marcy asked, remote still in hand and poised above the coffee table. 

“God no,” David scoffed. “There’s Patrick hockey and there’s too much hockey and watching the interviews is too much hockey.”

“I agree,” Marcy whispered in conspiracy. She put the remote down. “Clint likes watching all the interviews, but he’s not here this weekend.”

“You said he’s ice fishing?” David asked. 

“Yes. With his brother. I don’t like fishing and I don’t have the same affinity for cold that Clint and Patrick did,” Marcy said. “So Clint gets quality time with his brother and I get the house to myself.” 

David nodded.

“There’s something so nice about having the house to yourself when you know they’re coming home to you,” Marcy continued. 

David understood that. The silence that came with an away game day was hard, but when Patrick promised to come over as soon as he got back, or David met him at Patrick’s after Patrick’s homecoming shower, it was bearable. Then the next few days of Patrick’s constant company was overwhelming with _Patrick, Patrick, Patrick._ David loved it. 

“Now, just warning you, I am notoriously known for falling asleep in front of the tv,” Marcy’s words broke through the haze of _Patrick, Patrick, Patrick_ in his mind. “Feel free to help yourself to the kitchen. Stay for as long as you need. I don’t want you driving until you’re sober.”

“Thank you, Marcy,” David said with a shake of his head and the clench of his eyes. 

“It’s really no problem,” Marcy replied. 

They watched tv in silence and soon David was waking up to the incessant vibrating of his phone in his pocket. He blinked against his bright phone screen. Patrick’s name scrolled across the top and David answered the facetime call as he righted the recliner he was laid back in. 

“Hey,” David whispered as he moved past where Marcy was snoring lightly. 

“Hey,” Patrick whispered back. As usual, he was in his pajamas in his hotel bed. “Wait—are you still at my mom’s house?”

“I am,” David said. He walked into the living room, guided by the evening light filtering into the house. “She made me a few of her lemonade cocktails, so I was unable to drive myself home.”

Patrick threw his head back in a laugh and David couldn’t help but giggle. 

“It’s what she’s known for,” Patrick said. He looked offscreen for a second before turning back with a soft smile. “Thank you for going over.”

“I had a great time,” David said as he sat on the couch. He looked around the living room, at the family pictures on the walls, the plants that littered surfaces and all the little nick nacks that screamed _Brewer._

“Are you going back home tonight?” Patrick asked. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah. I’m going to eat something and then go,” David picked at the rip in his jeans. “You have another game tomorrow and then you’re flying home after that?”

Patrick grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing when you come back?” David asked.

Patrick’s eyes were bright as he let out a long _‘um’._ “Well, I have the morning off the next day.”

“Okay,” David hummed along. 

“I already checked my boyfriend’s calendar, and he doesn’t have any morning meetings, so technically he doesn’t have to be in to work early,” Patrick continued. “So maybe he wants to come over for a quiet evening in? I’m thinking Thai food and movies? And a lot of sex.”

“Patrick!” David hissed. “I am at your mother’s house!”

Patrick made the motion of zipping his lips closed and tossing the key. 

“You’re insufferable,” David narrowed his eyes at him. 

“So is that a yes to you coming over when I get back?” Patrick asked. 

“Of course,” David confirmed as Patrick’s lips curved into a smile. “I would love to.”

“Hey, let me know when you get home?” Patrick asked. 

“Text or call?” David replied. 

“Oh, call,” Patrick nodded. “We can have a little _fun time_ before you go to sleep.”

“Patrick Brewer!”

When Patrick got back to Toronto, David threw himself into his arms. It felt _so good_ to have him home. 

*

There was something comforting about physically going to one of Patrick’s games. Arena food was a paradox; delicious in a way that was terrible outside of the building. The swishing of the skates on the ice was calming and the energy of the crowd was addicting in a way that a crowded club never was. 

Most of all, there was a feeling of domesticity that came with being there, cheering Patrick on, that was intoxicating. It was overwhelming. He cheered when Patrick scored, flinched when Patrick was slammed against the boards, and was sad when he lost. 

It was a lot, more than David ever thought he deserved. 

He cleared his throat as he furrowed his brows. Now wasn’t the time to get into that. 

His phone rang in his hands and he glanced down to see Marcy’s name on the screen. 

“Hello?” David answered. 

“Sorry dear, but we forgot which soda you wanted,” He could hear the remorse in Marcy’s voice. 

“Oh, a Coke please,” David responded. 

“Clint was right,” Marcy said in defeat. David chuckled. 

“Do you need me to come up and help?” David offered.

“Oh, no dear, we’ve got it.”

David had barely just hung up when his phone rang again. This time, with a call from his dad. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, David!” His dad’s voice was loud in his ear. “Good news, I’m going to be in Toronto tomorrow night for a meeting the following day.”

“Okay,” David furrowed his brows as his dad continued. 

“Are you free for a late dinner? I should be getting in around 7.”

“Uh,” David got distracted as he watched the players skate onto the ice. The crowd broke into loud cheers and he could barely hear his dad start talking again. 

“Oh, is this a bad time?” His dad asked. David wondered what his dad was thinking. The roar of a crowd was much different than the thundering bass of a dance track that his father was used to hearing on David’s end. 

“Kind of? I’m at a hockey game,” David replied. He took a deep breath and decided to just rip the bandaid right off. “Um, I am free tomorrow, but can you possibly do something the following day? I want you to meet Patrick and he’s unavailable tomorrow. Bring mom if you can.”

David picked at the hole in his jeans. This was _big._ He was nervous and excited all at once and he hoped that his dad was available.

“Patrick?” His father’s voice was laced in confusion. “Oh! This is the man you’ve been seeing? The hockey player, right?”

“Yeah,” David couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at the mention of Patrick’s name.

“Oh! We would love to go to dinner with you two! Your mother is around here somewhere, let me go get her,” His dad continued talking as he looked for his wife, but he was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as a section initiated the wave. 

The smacking of sticks against pucks and ice was louder and David couldn’t hear a word his dad was saying. “Dad, I have to go. It’s starting to get loud, but call me tomorrow and we’ll finalize plans?”

“Of course!” His dad exclaimed. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

David hung up after saying goodbye. 

A few minutes later, Marcy and Clint were back with concessions and David tucked his drink into the holder attached to the half wall in front of them and his food tray on the open seat next to him. Patrick skated up, knocked against the glass with his gloves before he scooped a stick full of pucks from behind the net. 

“So, are we taking bets on which team is going to win?” Clint said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

“Oh, hush,” Marcy said as she swatted his arm. “We know L.A. is very weak this year, the Leafs basically have this in the bag.”

David laughed as he shook his head. 

Patrick skated back up, scooped up a puck in his glove, winked at David and spit his mouthguard into his other hand. 

“David, catch!” 

David grinned as Patrick threw the puck over the glass and he caught it in both hands. 

Marcy raised an eyebrow at him, Clint leaned forward so he was looking at David and David shrugged. 

“I made one comment about how sweet it is when players throw kids warm up pucks, and now Patrick won’t stop throwing them to me,” David rolled his eyes and bit back the grin that was teasing at his lips. 

“Endless teasing, sounds familiar,” Marcy grinned.

He held onto the puck until Marcy and Clint turned back to the ice, then slipped it into the side pocket of his pants; for later. 

When he looked back up, Marcy was biting back a smile, her eyes trained on his pocket. 

“You keep them, don’t you?” Marcy’s voice was soft. David nodded vigorously. 

“Please don’t tell him, he’ll be insufferable about it,” David joked. 

“Your secret is safe with me.”

_November 22, 2018: Watched with Marcy and Clint for the first time._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> much love and good vibes, sam
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [as samwhambam](https://samwhambam.tumblr.com/) !


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